


Insomnia

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 09:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10085804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: After tending to a battle-fallen Thorin, the reader finally gets some time to herself. Or so she thinks.





	

It had been a long day. Or rather a long week. Better yet, it had been a gruelling two months as you tended to the ailing king. The first month had been spent waiting for Thorin to wake up and the second in bowing to his every whim and need. Despite his loss of blood and bedridden state, he was still as stubborn as ever. And demanding.

Balin had first insisted on you sitting with the king as he lay unconscious, though you had never been Thorin’s favourite. At least you had not thought so. When he had woken, Balin and his brother had hovered over him like fretting mother’s and the king had ordered them to leave. When you had risen and offered to fetch Oin, he had commanded you to stay…now that you thought of it, it had seemed more a request and you _had_ consented.

At first it had been silent as the king was still weakened by his state and then slowly he had begun to ask questions. _Were his nephews alive?_ Yes. _What about the others?_ Yes. _Had the orcs gone?_ Yes. _And the elves?_ Them, too. He was contented and sunk back on the pillows, sleeping more than anything. When his meals had been brought and he could stomach them, you had helped him eat and when he had tried to sit up, you supported him as to not let him tear his stitches.

Day and night, you had remained and slept on the cushioned bench from which you kept watch of him. When the Fundin brothers had offered themselves for vigil, Thorin had grumbled and so you stayed longer. You could not bring yourself to come outright and ask why the king preferred your presence but you wondered nonetheless.

When at last he could stand on his own, if only to take a few steps, Balin had bartered your release and at last you returned to your own chambers. Having been so consumed with the king’s health, you sat alone in the small orb of light shone by a single candle and tried to think of what to do with yourself. As you sighed and slumped against the chair back, you caught a whiff of yourself and blanched. A bath would do you well.

Taking up the candle, you found your way to the bath chamber and set down the small flame. You crossed to the hand pump which brought forth the pure water of Erebor’s hot springs and began to work it. The effort was tiring as you had slept poorly on the king’s small bench in the last months and you resolved to sleep endlessly in your own bed after you washed.

The water began to flow and you undressed slowly, your clothes sodden from the dirt of battle you had not washed off and the sweat of all those days sat before the king’s burning hearth. You yawned and stretched as you stood naked in the cool air of the bath chamber and watched the water fill the large stone tub.

Cranking the pump backward and stemming the rush of water, you lifted a leg over the side of the bath tub and dipped a toe into the steaming pool. It was a cleansing feeling as you brought your other foot into the water and lowered yourself carefully until you were reclined against the back of the basin. You sighed with relief and exhaustion as you reached up to untie your hair and let the ends unravel into the bathwater.

You could not count the minutes you sat in the tub; hours even. You only rose to climb out of the large tub when the water had cooled, pulling the stopper with reluctance. You dried off with a thick towel and wrapped yourself in a lilac robe of satin; an uncharacteristic look as you often dawned dull woolen tunics and even drabber breeches. You had always been averse to dresses but the robe had been left behind by some forgotten dwarrowdam and it felt wonderful on your freshly-cleaned skin.

As you carried the low-burning candle back into the room, a knock came at the door and you cursed audibly. Balin must have returned to inform you that you were once more needed by the king. It was as if Thorin was deliberately torturing you at this point. Perhaps you had been right and you were indeed his least favourite.

Reluctantly, you neared the door, with candle in hand, and inched it open so that only your face could be seen. To your surprise, Balin did not await you in the corridor, although you had not been far off. Thorin stood, half-hunched with a hand on his ribs, and his usual grim expression. Though as you looked at him you saw a flicker in his eyes that betrayed more than his usual nonchalance.

“Thorin, you should be in bed,” You could not help your concern; you had not spent two months at his bedside to watch him throw it all away, “You shouldn’t have come all the way here. You must feel awful.”

“I feel just fine,” He insisted as he stood straight and his innate obstinacy reassured you, “I couldn’t sleep.”

 _It seems neither can I,_ you thought to yourself but remained silent and opened the door wider, “I assume you want me to invite you in. I can’t leave you out there or Balin would have my head.”

“I wouldn’t force your hand,” Thorin grumbled and half-turned but you stopped him as you stepped into the corridor.

“Don’t, I didn’t mean it like that,” You had not meant to be so obtuse, “You didn’t wake me.”

“I can tell,” His eyes traveled up and down you and you remembered your attire.

You pushed back the wet strands of hair which had fallen over your shoulder and waved him inside. You set down the candle and he closed the door behind him as he entered. You crossed to the fresh pile of logs beside the unlit fireplace and bent to stack some inside the stonework.

“It’s a bit chilly in here,” You said apologetically as you went about looking for flint, “I’ll get the hearth burning and then I’ll get changed.”

“As you will,” He allowed as he looked around the chamber through the dark and you felt as if he was judging you, “I apologize for disturbing you so late.”

“If you were truly sorry, you wouldn’t have come,” You knelt to light the kindling and as the flames caught, you rose and turned to Thorin as he watched you closely from behind a chair, “Sit and I’ll be right back.”

You felt suddenly awkward as his eyes followed you and you crossed to your large wardrobe to search for proper clothing. When allowed the luxury of a room, you’d only ever sleep in a nightshirt but you gathered that was not attire befitting a royal visit. A pair of loose breeches and a tunic to match would do you just fine.

You took the garments under your arm and glanced back at the king who himself wore a nightshirt with the collar unbuttoned and baggy breeches better suited to a farmhand. He had thrown a thick robe over his pajamas and a pair of slippers on his feet but was not himself dressed for company. He must have been used to appearing before you thus and so he thought little of propriety.

Regardless, you scurried back into the bath chamber which had grown unbearably cold and closed the door swiftly. You untied the robe, letting it hang open as another yawn came to you and you rubbed your eyes with fatigue. There was no way of telling the king you were too tired for his company without offending and so you resolved to keep yourself awake.

You turned to the small basin atop the counter and filled it with cool water, setting it back on the marble before splashing your face. It sent a shiver through you but helped you open your eyes fully and you stretched your arms over your head as you shook out the heaviness in your limbs. You let your robe fall down your arms and a creak came from behind you, the door moving slowly on its own.

You had forgotten about the fussy mechanism and as you turned with the robe hanging from your elbows you made full eye contact with Thorin as he sat looked to investigate the noise. You pulled the robe up as your cheeks burned and you covered yourself hastily, turning back with humiliation. You breathed deeply and cringed as you shook your head at your own carelessness.

You cleared your throat and turned, bracing yourself to close the door properly and change so that you could regain a sense of composure. Your plan collapsed as you found Thorin leaning against the door frame as he looked at you with a peculiar expression. It was half a smirk and half a mystery. You chewed your lip as words eluded your mind and he pushed himself upright.

“Y/N,” He stepped into the bath chamber, his voice unsavoury, “I did not mean to peek.”

“It’s that damned door,” You glanced away with a slant of your mouth, “It has a mind of its own.”

“I didn’t say I minded,” He chuckled and you looked back to him flummoxed, “In fact…I lied. About not being able to sleep.”

“Thorin, what are you on about?” You said with exasperation as your cheeks burned against your will, “I’m already utterly embarrassed and I don’t need you making it worse with your…just, please forget this happened.”

“Ahem, my what?” He questioned with a raised brow, “I’ll let whatever you were going to insult me with slide, but as I was saying, I lied.”

“Alright, Thorin, why did you lie about not being able to sleep?” You surrendered.

“I was sleeping and then I had a dream,” One corner of his mouth rose and his eyes lowered, “About you.”

You gulped as you felt the heat spread from your cheeks. The way he looked at you and the subtle changes in his demeanour sent a shiver with you which had nothing to do with the temperature. Perhaps you were tired and you were overthinking but as he neared you, his aura assured you that you were sane.

“It wasn’t much different than now…except you didn’t hide,” He brought his hand up to your cheek and stroked it gently, “And neither did I, for the first time in my life.”

“Thorin, it’s late and we’re both tired,” You protested thinly but could not bring yourself to back away, “It was only a dream.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” He breathed as he leaned in, his breath touching your lips.

“We can’t,” Your voice trembled as you longed for him to close the distance.

“If that’s truly how you feel, just walk away,” He whispered as his deep blue eyes entranced you, “I want you, but only if you want me.”

“Damn you, Thorin Oakenshield.”

You pressed your lips to his and brought your hands up to cradle the soft trim of his beard, letting your robe fall open as he ran his fingers along the bare skin of your waist, all thought draining away under his touch.


End file.
